Finding the Right Words
by K.H. Wright
Summary: After a breif kiss, Germany leaves Italy confused and hurt. Can he find the right words to convey his feelings?
1. Chapter 1

**Happy birthday Shar! I love you so much! Hope you've had a great seventeen years, and I hope the rest of your days are just as great, if not better. (Oh, and to warn you, they may be very OOC. Love you! 3)**

**o0o**

So many words hung in the air, but both Italy and Germany had trouble finding the right ones to say. At first the kiss had been accidental (an innocent kiss on the cheek missed,) but at the moment their lips touched, a strange emotion overwhelmed both men, deepening the kiss into a beautiful something that left both of them breathless in each other's arms. But, as suddenly as the emotion came, it left. With an embarrassed sound, Germany released Italy and jumped back. Muttering something about making battle plans, Germany beat a retreat that would give Italians a run for their money and left poor Italy standing all alone and confused. He placed two fingers to his lips. The kiss didn't faze him, since he had known he had feelings for Germany for a long time, but Germany's reaction left him stunned and on the verge of heartbreak. The older man might as well have punched him in the stomach, for Italy felt his very breath leave him.

He stood alone for a while, his head spinning from a combination of confusion and hurt, wondering if he should follow Germany into his place, or turn tail and go home. Even after deciding to stay, it took almost an hour for him to pick up his feet, walk through the façade and enter the building. With his head down, tears stinging his eyes, he practically ran up the stairs to the guest room (which he had never used, as he usually slept in the same room as Germany.) He closed the door behind him as quietly as possible, and then plopped down on the bed, hiding his face in a pillow. He cried. He cried until his throat ached and his eyes were devoid of tears. Even after he became too tired to cry anymore, sleep didn't find him. He turned uncomfortably in the sheets, couldn't find an angle in which to lay his head, and spun the evening's events around in his mind. The kiss had felt so nice, so…right. How was it that Germany hadn't felt the same way? How could he have run off without even talking about it? For a horrifying minute he wondered if Germany was as bad as Romano had always told him. But no, Germany was his friend. He was a good person. He was just…just…

Italy didn't know what to think. He didn't want to think. He wanted to sleep. But it seemed impossible without Germany's warm body beside him, or without the sound of the other man's steady breathing to lull him to sleep. Outside, the sound of rain pattered against the roof and clouds darkened the new light of the rising sun. For a while, Italy didn't move. Then suddenly a thought hit him. Big Brother France knew a lot about dealings in love, maybe he could help. With a new, glimmering shred of hope, Italy changed out of his wrinkled clothes and changed into his usual blue outfit. Then quietly, he made his way down the stairs careful not to awaken anyone sleeping (or alert Germany that he was awake, as the blonde was up at the crack of dawn if not earlier.)

When Italy arrived at France's he was tired but determined. He marched into the house, not bothering to knock and went to find his big brother. He found him in the study, reading a book with a glass of wine on the table beside him. Without hesitation, Italy jumped into France's lap.

"Big Brother!" he cried, and began to relate the previous day's incident, waving his arms and speaking so quickly that the whole story sounded like one word. France, although disgusted that the wurst eating German came anywhere near his cute younger brother, listened to the entire story with a bleeding heart. How many times had he been turned down? How many potential lovers had broken his heart? Before Italy could fully finish his story, France leapt up, knocking Italy to the floor.

"Italy," he started. "Although your taste in men is questionable, I make it my new mission in life to make sure that you win the heart of that potato boiling bastard!" Italy jumped to his feet.

"You really mean that Big Brother?" France smiled in response.

"Why, but of course! Now, here's what we'll do…"

**o0o**

**So that's it for now. Once again, happy birthday Shar. I love you tons!**

**And yes, I will make a second part. Don't even ask. xD**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: …Y'know what? I (for once) have nothing to say except, R&R please. **

**o0o**

Germany sat at his desk, head in his hands and a look of irritation on his face. He tried his hardest to keep his mind on work, but the memory of the kiss kept resurfacing in his mind. It had shocked him more than anything, that kiss with Italy. The rush of foreign emotion short-circuited his brain, and all he could think after it had left was to get the hell out of there. The fact that he had retreated embarrassed him. How was he supposed to face Italy after running away like a coward? He hated that, when it came to war, he could stand his ground against anything, but when it came to his emotions, he was utterly useless. He wanted to talk to Italy; he wanted to make it right, he wanted…

The sound of his phone ringing almost made him jump out of his seat. Gathering his composure, he answered the phone.

"Yes, this is Germany," he said. At first there was a silence on the other end, then finally the person started to talk.

"I hear you're friends with Italy," came the voice of a man obviously speaking in a deepened version of his own voice. "I have captured him and, for a price, I will return him to you unharmed."

"…Is that you France?" Germany asked incredulously. There was scattered sputtering on the other line.

"N-no! I-I-I'm uh, d-doesn't matter! I have Italy and if you don't come to the big cherry tree behind my-I mean, France's place at 5:00 p.m., I can't guarantee his safety," the voice finished saying before the line cut out. Germany sighed, standing up and went to go save Italy…again.

**o0o**

He knew something was up from the moment he stepped on France's property. The whole place, including the trees and bushes were decorated in lights and from the direction of the cherry tree, he could hear the faint sound of music.

He turned the corner of France's place to the back of the house and nearly fell over. There, under the large cherry tree was Italy standing next to a candle-lit table in a black pin-striped suit with a red rose in his lapel. He held his hands behind his back and, even from a distance, Germany saw a blush on the young man's face. He approached Italy and before he had a chance to say anything, Italy started to talk, waving his arms.

"I-I'm sorry I tricked you," he began, "b-but I wanted to tell you something." He took a deep breath. "I like you a lot. Even more than I like pasta, and I really, really like pasta. Especially alfredo, which is the best pasta ever. Next to lasagna of course. But th-that's not my point. My point is that I, I think I…love…you…" He dipped his head. "I just want you to love me too," he whispered. Germany closed the distance between them and took Italy in his arms.

"I don't know how to explain what I'm feeling," he started, "but I know that I like being with you. I don't know if it's love, but I know that I don't want to be without you. Um," he averted his eyes, "I guess that's what I wanted to say…" Italy was silent for a moment, before standing on his tip-toes and pressed his lips to Germany's. The other man returned the kiss unreservedly.

And from his top floor, France watched the two sit down to the dinner he had prepared and despite his hatred of the blond man, he couldn't help but smile.

"Romantic," he sang out the window, "I am the king of romance!" His statement was lost, though, on the couple on the ground who were oblivious to anything besides each other.

**Hahaha, it got cheesy fast. Anyway, last chapter, hope you liked it. Please leave a review for me. :]**

**-K.H. Wright**


End file.
